An exam you cheated on. A secret and unrequited love. Lies you tell people to appear as something you’re not. An undisclosable joy. A disguised fear. What untold truths lurk in the dark recesses of your being?
Sri points me to PostSecret, a blog that “collects secrets written in by postcard by people who mostly wish to be anonymous.” As a serious people-watcher, I was clasped by the intensity of these entries, even ones as ho-hum as “I still love her.” Such a feeling may be commonplace, but it defines the emotional core of one person somewhere out there. So it continues … under our socially-sculpted exteriors, we are grotesquely beautiful creatures, capable of the infinitely great, sorrowful and strange.
This is a chance to tell the whole world your most privileged knowledge and never really reveal it to … anyone.
I wonder which is worse… “I still love her” or “She still loves me, but I wish she’d let me go..”
There.. that’s my post card..
The former pulls on a heartstring; I’ll go with that one.
Then again, do we ever stop loving people that once filled our chest cavity with that much joy?
RE: the “do we ever stop loving people …” comment: sometimes.